Personal Saviour
by BlackFox12
Summary: Sam can’t deal with the fact that his brother’s not going to be around for much longer, and acts up because he wants Dean’s attention


**Personal Saviour**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Supernatural and I'm not making any money from this fic

**Summary:** Sam can't deal with the fact that his brother's not going to be around for much longer, and acts up because he wants Dean's attention

**Prompt chosen:** 34 – shopping, arguing, urban legend

**Implement:** Belt

**Story Type:** Gen

**Warning(s):** Spoilers for most of the episodes up until at least halfway through Season 3; original characters; spanking

* * *

"Look, Sammy, you should be doing this as well," Dean said, tossing a bag of candy into the basket. "After I'm gone, you'll have to take care of yourself, you know." He didn't sound unhappy as he said it, simply took the basket from his brother and started to walk off, over to where the coffee was.

"We shouldn't be coming here while we're wanted for murder." Sam hurried to follow his brother. "But that's not really the point. Dean, I don't understand why you're being so flippant about all of this. You're my brother, and I can't believe you're just going to pretend like nothing's happened."

Dean turned to Sam, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You think I don't care?" he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I told you, Sam. I don't regret making that decision. You're my brother, and I swore I'd always protect you." He glanced briefly around. "We're not gonna talk about this here."

"If it were up to you, we wouldn't talk about it at all!"

A woman passing by directed a glare at the brothers, and muttered something under her breath.

"Sorry," Sam said automatically. Once the woman had gone, he looked back at his brother. "I don't want to do this anymore. You're not thinking about how I feel. You never do. You just decided to go and make a deal, without thinking of me! Well, what if I decide to do the same thing? You spent your whole life protecting me... I don't want you to end up in hell because of me!"

"Keep your voice down. Do you want everyone to think we're nuts?"

"Do I _look_ like I care?" Sam demanded, ignoring the strange looks they were getting. "I'm going to lose my brother! Dean... I'm going to lose you." To his horror, he realised that there were tears in his eyes; and he angrily dashed them away.

"Sam." Dean took a step forward.

Shaking his head, Sam stepped back; then, he simply turned and ran out of the shop, ignoring the stares he was getting.

* * *

"Did you hear what happened? Apparently, a girl died in the arms of a statue in a cemetery! It's horrible. I hear her poor mother is heartbroken."

Sam slowed his steps, feeling relieved – but also a little upset – that Dean hadn't followed him. Maybe Dean figured that Sam needed some space, which was partly true; but Sam could admit – to himself at least – that what he really needed was his big brother. He couldn't very well go back, though. That would defeat the whole purpose of storming off.

Maybe he should go and check out what happened in the cemetery. At the very least, it would give him a chance to cool off; and possibly help him work out just what he could do to help Dean.

Sam slipped his hand into his pocket, and took out the ID he had placed there earlier. With some relief, he saw that it was one for a policeman. Holding the ID, he sped up his steps to catch up with the two women. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm Officer Sam Coleman. I'm investigating the death that happened in the cemetery, but I think I must have got a little confused." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "I went to the wrong one, I think."

One of the women – she appeared to be about his age – gave a wide smile. "It's the New Hope Cemetery. Do you need me to show you the way? I was interviewed by one of the other policemen – but I think I like you better."

"Er, thank you." Really, Sam was flattered – but he wasn't particularly interested in anything apart from saving his brother. "I know the way, though. If you see my partner come out of the shop, just let him know where I've gone. You can't miss him."

"Oh, okay." The woman looked slightly disappointed, but quickly lost interest in him.

Since the New Hope Cemetery wasn't far away, Sam decided he could just as well walk the distance. It didn't occur to him to take any weapons with him.

* * *

Sam pushed open the gate, frowning as he heard it creak loudly. He had faith in his ability to tell a good story, but he'd rather not be in that position at all. However, he quickly pushed those thoughts away when he caught sight of the statue, right in the middle of the graves. He walked over to it, noticing that it was made out of white marble and was of a woman. There were a few red stains on the statue's hands – but nothing else to suggest that someone had died there.

Wasn't there an urban legend about a girl getting crushed to death by a statue?

Frowning, Sam took a slight step back, unable to help a slight feeling of unease. Maybe he should have waited until he'd learned more. Normally, he was a lot more careful than this. What was wrong with him?

"I should come back when I know more," Sam said out loud, mainly trying to fill the silence. He started to back away, but felt like an invisible rope had wrapped around him and was pulling him towards the statue. He could see the hands reaching out to him, ready to crush the life out of him.

Try as he might to struggle, Sam couldn't break free. Just as he was about to be pulled against the statue, though, the force disappeared. Taken by surprise, Sam fell heavily, looking up at the statue. The pull was gone, but he thought he could see moisture on the statue's cheeks. There was only one person who could have saved him, even without physically being in the same place.

* * *

"Took you long enough to get here," Dean said from his position on one of the beds, when Sam walked through the door. "Well? Don't you have something to say to me?" he asked, when Sam didn't say anything.

"Thank you," Sam said quietly. "Who was she?"

"Agnes, a woman who was jilted by her fiancé," Dean replied. "After she died – some say of a broken heart – a statue was made of her, which her ghost was haunting. She was buried in the other cemetery. It was a simple case of salt and burn the bones, Sammy. I don't understand why that was so difficult for you."

Sam took a slight step back, not liking the look in his brother's eyes. "I thought I could do it alone."

"I think you were trying to get my attention," Dean replied, standing up and rolling up his sleeves. "Well, guess what? You have it, but you're not going to like the consequences." He took Sam's wrist, and knocked his feet out from under him so that he fell forward onto the bed. He leaned on Sam's back, and used his other hand to undo his belt. "There are things you don't do, Sam. Putting yourself in danger was an incredibly stupid thing to do, and not something I'll tolerate."

Sam started struggling, but stopped when the belt landed across his bottom. He drew his breath in sharply, but as the belting continued, he couldn't help wriggling as a few tears slipped out of his eyes. "I'm sorry!"

"I'm going to try harder here, Sam. I have less than a year left, but I don't want to spend the whole time fighting with you. I don't want to leave angry words between us like you and Dad. Next time, you try talking to me – and I'll do my best to listen to you, and not push you away."

It took Sam a few moments to realise that the blazing whacks had stopped. Slowly, he straightened up, reaching a hand back to rub at his sore bottom. "What do we do now?"

"Right now? Well, if you think you can sit down, I sorta thought we could go to a movie. You know, while we still have money left."

**The End**


End file.
